Ronan
by Pamplemoussex.x
Summary: 'She starts when a large hand rests gently on her shoulder. The touch is warm and gentle, loving even, but despite this it is firm enough to hold her down in her seat and stop her from running'. My entry to the October prompt.


**Author's Note: This is more writing than I've done in almost two years! It's not very Halloween-y, rather another side of Matt. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Ronan belongs to Freekydisaster18, thank you for letting me use her! **

Slender auburn eyebrows furrow in concentration whilst a set of vivid emerald eyes stare pensively down at the note before her until she loses focus and her vision becomes little more than a bleary haze. She glances away quickly; dark eyelashes thick with a coating of her Aunt Jackie's electric blue mascara fluttering rapidly like the delicate wings of a butterfly struggling against the wind. Short, chubby fingers ending in bitten, gaudily painted fingernails slowly trace the uneven letters in a vain attempt to familiarise their shape and commit them to memory.

With each slow and almost somnolent movement of her hand and every abrupt flicker of her eyes she is becoming aware of an irrepressible and ultimately demoralizing feeling of frustration that is gradually building up inside of her.

Every single remnant of self control that the young girl still clings to is rapidly diminishing.

The pressure that she has felt slowly increasing becomes too much and she can not help but to cry out in uninhibited anguish as her tiny balled up fists slam down onto the kitchen table with surprising force.

When she sits up she is breathing heavily, her breath coming out in ragged and painful gasps that scratch at the back of her throat and make her head pound. She can feel her heart beat in her ears whilst her small hands throb with the impact, and try as she may, she can not stop the red hot tears that sting the backs of her eyes from spilling over. The dark tracks that they leave on her cheeks serve as a silent reminder of her weakness, and of her failure.

Two tears fall from the tip of her long nose and land in the centre of the note. She is unsure of whether her crying is induced by the dull pain in her hands, or if it is from the sheer embarrassment of being unable to read the letter.

She starts when a large hand rests gently on her shoulder. The touch is warm and gentle, loving even, but despite this it is firm enough to hold her down in her seat and stop her from running from the words and letters that taunt her frequently. She sniffs and struggles to hold back her tears. As much as she trusts him she can not bear the thought of allowing him to see her cry.

Calm and calloused fingers reach out to knead her pained knuckles that are slowly turning a shade of pink similar to that of her outfit, in a gentle and reassuring manner, although it does very little in softening the inner pain or shame that she feels.

"What's the matter?" His deep voice is surprisingly soft as he clasps her much smaller hands in his and draws her attention from the paper. Inwardly, Matt finds himself cursing Ewan for having left it where the young girl may discover it. Although, knowing Ronan she would have been rummaging through his things and picked it up.

"I can't do it, Uncle Matt." The red head closes her eyes. The smooth, light skin of her forehead creases as she exhales loudly in a poignant manner that is hauntingly mature.

Ordinarily, he would have smiled at her unusually grown up behaviour, this time, however, the action is little more than heart rending. She is young, still in primary school, yet she has been through an awful lot in her lifetime and Matt has often felt that it is partially his responsibility to look out for her.

Again, he strokes her hand and moving so that he is beside her, he kneels down until they are eye level. "Of course you can, Ronan. Here, try again," he tells her gently although he receives no reply. He squeezes her cool, clammy hand again and the girl opens her eyes, a momentary look of surprise flashing across her pretty face when she discovers Matt mere inches away.

Without a word, the older man pulls the torn sheet of paper closer and wraps an arm around her narrow, bony shoulders. The soft fabric of her dress rustles with the movement; she is dressed for Halloween as a ballerina an outfit that in Matt's experience almost every little girl will choose to wear at least once in their lifetime.

"I told you, I can't do it, Uncle Matt," Ronan snaps and angrily bats a strand of hair from her face. Stuart has curled her hair for the occasion and it falls around her face in sleek ringlets the warm colour of burnt orange in the lamplight. "My teachers are right; I'm stupid. But it's okay." Her tone is ultimately heartbreaking and he wants nothing more than to pull her into his arms and assure her that he will never let anything or anyone hurt her. But he knows that he can not promise that.

"Aye you can," he assures her and brushes her thin ginger curls behind one ear. "And you're not stupid, Ronan, far from it." Despite her dyslexia, Stuart and Ewan's daughter is the brightest young girl Matt has ever encountered and he frequently finds himself immensely proud of her.

Ronan snorts and shakes her head and again, Matt is struck by the adult manner in which she does this.

"Uncle Robbie still thinks that three times six is twenty four. Now _that_ is stupid." She laughs and he is not ashamed to admit that the sound brings an immediate smile to his face.

"Alright, but you have to promise that you'll take me trick or treating after," Ronan relents with just the slightest hint of a sigh evident in her soft voice.

Matt laughs and agrees as he pulls himself to his feet, his knees cracking as he does so. "I already promised I would."

With the terms and conditions now figured out Ronan's attention reverts to the note. Her pale green eyes narrow, emphasising the light make up Jackie has helped her apply and she bites down gently on her full lower lip in concentration.

"I'll start you off," Matt tells her and as he begins to speak Ronan cuts him off.

"No, Uncle Matt. If I'm going to read it, I want to read the whole thing myself." He feels immensely proud of the young girl and with a swift nod he allows her to continue.

"M-?" She begins, slowly sounding out the first letter before she turns unsurely in her seat to fix Matt with her steady gaze as though seeking his approval.

"That's right. Keep going." His hands rest on her shoulders as a reminder that she is not alone.

Ronan struggles for some time before she pronounces his name and with a small smile at her accomplishment she moves on to the next word. She loses her temper several times on her way but Matt is always there to calm her down and to press his lips to the top of her head his mouth moving in time with Ronan's words as he urges her on.

She pauses suddenly and looks up. "I think I know what it says now," she tells him, wide almond shaped eyes alert and Matt nods offering her a proud smile.

"Matt, thank you for taking care of Ronan tonight. Is that right?" She looks up questioningly and although she has not completed the note she is correct and Matt can honestly say he has never felt quite as proud as he does at Ronan's achievement.

"That's right, Ronan," he tells her. "Well done."

There is a long moment of silence and for a second he wonders if she is on the brink of tears, but she surprises him when she jumps to her feet and gazes up at him with an excited smile. "You need a costume, Uncle Matt!"

"No, no thanks."

Ronan's smile falters. "Oh. But Uncle Matt, you have to dress up. It's Halloween!"

Matt just smiles and takes her hand again, and as he leads her out of the door he snatches up her plastic pumpkin shaped treat bag from the worktop. "Ach well, I'm scary enough anyway, aren't I? I'll win scariest costume tonight," he tells her smiling as her laughter echoes down the darkened street.

**Thank you for reading, and I hope I didn't ruin Ronan's character, Helen. I was just sure that I had read something about her either being dyslexic or not having been to school, or maybe that was my own imagination. **


End file.
